


It’s Nothing

by Galatwix (orphan_account)



Series: Clint Barton’s Bad Days [3]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton Angst, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Domestic Avengers, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt/Comfort, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, POV Clint Barton, Protective Avengers, Sick Clint Barton, Sickfic, Whump, collapse, hiding an illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:48:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23505625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Galatwix
Summary: An unknown illness and stubborn pride don’t mix well together - no one learns this better than Clint Barton himself.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Avengers Team
Series: Clint Barton’s Bad Days [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678423
Comments: 2
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

At the feeling of something bubbling and  climbing within his throat, Clint was awakened from restless slumber. He barely managed to make it to the toilet and fall to his knees before all of the contents of his stomach were expelled into the bowl. He went on for an eternity, it seemed, all the way to the point where he was simply dry-heaving and coughing up saliva into the toilet. 

_ “Agent Barton?”  _

Clint jumped slightly and glanced over his  shoulder to see who was there. Nothing but empty space met his gaze. “Wha…?” 

_ “Agent Barton?”  _

There it was again! Shaking miserably,  Clint pushed himself onto unsteady feet. And, though he was forced to maintain a hunched position, he managed to keep himself upright with the counter. _ “Who’s there?” _

_ “It’s JARVIS, Sir,” _

With that notion, Clint practically collapsed  back to the ground in relief when he realized that no one was actually here. 

_ “You appear to be in distress. Would you  _ _ like me to call Doctor Banner?”  _

Clint didn’t even need a second to think  about it. “No,” he shook his head slightly. “No, No Banner… ‘m fine… it’s nothing…” 

_ “Sir—!”  _

“I said no! N-No thank you!” Clint had never  been one for being babied. Especially not by teammates who he  _ knew  _ had always looked down on him for being one of the least special. Being so sick that he was trembling pathetically by the toilet would definitely not help his case. 

_ “Are you positive? My scans appear to say  _ _ otherwise…”  _

“I’m okay… I’m alright… really, I am. It’ll be  gone by morning, I’m sure of it.” After flushing the toilet, the archer pushed himself off the ground, using the counter again as heavy support. A pang of pain shot through his stomach, so he took a moment to gain himself and allowed his nausea to settle, before he began his journey back to his bed. 

_ “Are you aware that you cannot hide this  _ _ from your teammates, Agent Barton?”  _

“I’m aware.” Clint scoffed quietly as he  climbed back under the covers. “I’ll figure something out by myself…. If they ask you anything about it, just say something like ‘it seems like nothing’, you know?” 

_ “Agent Barton—“  _

_ “Please,  _ JARVIS,” Clint begged quietly. “ _ Please  _ don’t say anything if they ask.” 

The AI was silent as it processed this new  information. It took Clint a count of 12 seconds before it clicked back on again. 

_ “Of course, Agent Barton… I’ll see what I  _ _ can do…”  _

“Thank you, ” Clint mumbled warmly into  the pillow as he laid against it.  However, he didn’t get to hear the AI’s reply  before the exhaustion suddenly slammed into him.

The next thing he was aware of was sleep finally overtaking him. 

His sleep, if it could even be considered that,  was restless. Every so often he’d wake up to a stabbing pain in his body, mostly in his abdominal area. Not to mention, the mind numbing coldness of the air conditioning didn’t help. 

He half-slept most of the day away, not bothering to notice who wouldveIt was around 4 in the afternoon when Clint  finally wasn’t awoken by pain, but by somewhat of his own accord. 

However, he awoke just as unpleasantly to the sight of flashing lights that burned his eyes and a ear-splitting voice alerting the thing he was dreading: A mission. 

Moving around definitely did not help his  case though. In fact, it seemed to only make matters worse. His stomach was still acting out with nausea and blinding pain. No matter how fast he  _ tried  _ to be, he felt slow and lethargic as he got ready and headed downstairs. 

“Ah!” Tony’s grating voice was first to reach  his ears as he stepped onto the quinjet. “The flighty archer! He finally graces us with his presence! What’d you do? Stop for a Starbucks on the way here after your beauty sleep?” 

“Yeah, speaking of which,” Steve cut in,  “you feeling okay? You’ve been DNO all day.” 

“It’s nothing.” Clint murmured and moved in  the direction of a seat as the entrance closed behind him. ”And, maybe I wouldn’t have to stop at Starbucks if the coffee here was actually any good…” 

Tony turned in his chair, jaw mockingly  dropped, and brought an offended hand to his chest. “Not any  _ good— _ I’ll have you know it is  _ personally _ ordered!” 

“Maybe you should reconsider your  options,” Clint shot back listlessly, then quickly covered the monotone with a flare. “Whoever is selling you this stuff is doing you  _ dirty—!”  _

“Can’t we just get on with it?” Natasha cut  in and took a seat beside Bruce. “We don’t have all day!” 

Tony scoffed and turned back in his seat,  hands raised in surrender. “It’s not  _ my _ fault you people don’t know what  _ real  _ coffee tastes like.” 

Clint rolled his eyes slightly and braced  himself as the jet took off. The sudden movement did nothing well for his stomach and, the next thing he knew, he was fighting off the nausea and vomit rising in his throat. His hand curled around his abdomen protectively and he tried to ignore the pain. Hopefully no one noticed or cared. 

“Friend Archer!” 

Clint’s hand dropped and he lifted his head  slowly. He forced a happy look on his face as he turned to greet Thor. “Hey, man, how's it going?” 

“All is well with me, thank you!” Thor  beamed and gestured slightly to the spot next to him. “I’ve come to claim the spot next to you, if it is all well with you?” 

“No, no, of course!” Clint nodded and slid  to the side gently. “It’s all yours!”

“Much thanks, Friend Barton,” Thor smiled  and took the seat happily. “I don’t mean to pry, but you do not look well, my friend. I have also noticed your absence today in the usual festivities. May I ask if you are doing well?” 

“What?” Clint blinked, shook his head. “No,  I’m good! It’s nothing! Just, uh… just a little tired. It’s been a long day…” despite the fact that he hadn’t been  _ up _ today… 

“Ah!” Thor nodded in understanding. “Yes!  All in a good day’s work, though, correct?” 

“Mm-Hmm, Yeah…” Clint agreed and  flinched as Thor punched his arm lightly. He bent his head to the ground again as Steve began debriefing and tried to focus on what was being said. However, headaches tended to make simple things like concentration very difficult. 

First, Clint was sure Steve was talking  about sponges and his original thought was ‘why sponges?’ Then, he’d realized he got sidetracked when Steve started talking about stolen tech. 

There was also a warning of some kind in  there, something about swinging and flying, but, by this point, the archer’s headache and stomachache was so bad, he was having trouble focusing on  _ anything.  _

“Right. Thor, Iron Man, you two take the  front and I’ll take the back, we’ll be the distractions. Barton, Romanoff, you’ll need to sneak in behind us and start the search while we occupy them. Banner, we may or may not need a Code Green today.” 

“Per usual,” Bruce replied softly. “Just know  I’ll be ready if you need him.” 

“Will do. Everyone good?” 

“Aye.”

Clint raised his head, nodding, and met  Nat’s eye across the jet. When she raised an eyebrow expectantly, he cleared his throat. “Yep, yep… mm-Hmm.”

“Sounds good,” Tony glanced back over  his shoulder and caught Clint’s eye. “Legolas, you and Romanoff good to drop us off close to the front and fly this thing ‘round back?” 

“Sounds good,” he replied after a nod from  Natasha. “We’ll be ready…” 

“Just so you know,” Nat called across to  him. “I’m flying.” 

Clint bobbed his head, not really in the  mood to argue,  _ especially  _ not with her. “I’ll enjoy my time as co-pilot.” 

Tony nodded, turning around, and Steve  went back to his conversation with Nat. Bruce moved across the plane to sit beside Thor, and Clint was finally granted some peace. 

Tiredly, he pulled his slightly sore body into  the corner and tried to relax. 

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

When the jet lurched to a stop, Clint was jolted out of his thoughts. His hand came out to steady him when he almost fell from the seat. However, he managed to save himself by stumbling into a standing position.

“Woah there, Legolas,” Tony chuckled as Clint passed on the way to the pilot seats. “Got a hot date with the floor?”

“Ha-ha,” Clint responded dryly and lowered himself gently into the co-pilot seat, Natasha not far behind. He buckled himself in as Tony walked away, chuckling to himself.

The three men clambered off the quinjet, first Thor and Tony, then finally Steve after conversing briefly with Bruce.

The doors slid peacefully closed behind them, signaling their departure. Natasha smiled before starting up the jet again.

“You good, Clint?” She asked, after a brief glance in his direction. “You look a little… _green...”_

Clint cleared his throat and sat a little straighter, while also sliding into a nonchalant pose. “Its Nothing… just… it’s your terrible flying, I’m getting sick thinking about it…”

Natasha frowned and raised an eyebrow, eyes nothing short of condescending.

“Be ... _sides,”_ Clint continued hesitantly when her eyes did not leave his. “I’m not the only green one here.”

“Clint, I’m being serious,” Natasha said, no smile in her voice. “And be _sides_ , you just admitted to looking green.”

“And I told you I’m _fine,”_ Clint snapped back. He cleared his throat and shifted away from Natasha when she glared at him. “I-I mean… I’m good. I’m fine. It’s nothing. Just… just tired.”

Natasha raised her brow again as the jet began lifting into the air.

“Are you not feeling well?” Bruce asked, interrupting softly. “Too ‘ _tired_ ’ to be going on a mission?”

“I feel _fine.”_ Clint lied, a whine not far from his tone. “It’s been a long week and _yeah,_ I’m tired. But, just because I’m tired doesn’t mean I can’t work. Hell, _every_ time I work I’m tired!”

“ _Clint—!”_

 _“Nat._ I’m fine. Just let it go, okay? We need to focus on the _mission_ right now.”

Natasha stared, clearly examining him.

Clint tried to make himself look as truthful and healthy as he possibly could, hoping it was enough to fool her.

“Alright…” she finally agreed hesitantly.

“Don’t come crying to me then…”

After that, much to Clint’s relief, she let it drop. The rest of the brief plane ride was ridden in complete silence. 

_God, I wish I was anywhere else right now._ Anywhere. _Why won’t this headache go away? Why is everything so shaky? Did someone stab me in the stomach? How—?_

“Hey.” Natasha’s voice snapped Clint out of his thoughts. “Are you coming or not?”

Clint swallowed and shook his head to clear it. “Uh… y-yeah… yeah…” he pushed himself from the chair shakily, shocked that he had somehow missed the landing.

“Come _on,”_ Natasha’s persistent voice called from the exit. “We don’t have all day, Bird-Brain.”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’...” Clint grumbledtiredly. Pretty much everything by that point was aching. Not to mention, every jostle seemed to throw more power to his nausea and pain. One false move and _something_ was unwillingly coming back up.

He reached the exit in about 3 times the amount of time he usually would where Natasha was holding up his bow and quiver for him impatiently.

“Seriously?” She asked, half-joking as Clint took his stuff. “Were you sleeping with your eyes open?”

“You know if I had that ability, I’d use it every chance I could get.” Clint replied tiredly and strapped on his equipment. “I’d use the… use the hell out of that power…”

“Anyone would, I think,” Natasha joked back and stepped off the plane.

Meanwhile, Clint had positioned himself against the doorway after a nasty wave of dizziness and nausea slammed into him.

“You guys will call if there’s a Code Green?” Bruce asked and stepped out beside Clint, hands twisted with anxiety.

“Only if we have to,” Natasha confirmed “Just like promised.”

“Good…” Bruce gave a sort of half smil and nodded, then glanced briefly at Clint. “Are you going to go, Agent Barton?” He asked. “Leaning on this door frame isn’t going to help complete the mission…”

Clint frowned and raised an eyebrow as he turned to return the glance, but was cut off by Natasha speaking.

“He’s right, Clint. We don’t have all day.”

Clint swallowed thickly, nodding, before pushing himself unsteadily off the frame. The world spun around him, his stomach twisted painfully, things blinking in and out of focus, and his feet stumbled with confusion.

“Clint?”

Who just said that?

Suddenly overwhelmed by everything all at once, Clint’s knees buckled. He swallowed once and attempted to straighten himself out, but before he could do much else, he soon found himself falling. The next thing he knew, he was dropping like a stone. There was a sharp pang of pain in his whole body and then, nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

First, there was ringing, closely followed by the unmistakable sound of voices, even if severely muffled. Then, the feelings in his body began coming back all at once: hot, cold, pain, nausea…

He groaned slightly and pinched his eyes tighter together, then forced them open a crack and frowned at the silhouettes hovering inches from his face.

 _“Clint?”_ The voice was muffled and barely audible over the ringing, but the words were clear enough. _“...Hear me… are... okay…?”_

Clint blinked, the words not really processing completely in his head. He stared blankly at the sky above, trying to recall the last couple of hours in his life.

 _“Clint!”_ The silhouette above leaned closer. Something pressed against his forehead.

_“Burning up… Get… bag…”_

Clint pulled away sluggishly from the sudden fingers pressing on his neck. He attempted to push them away and sit up, but when he tried to, the world suddenly dangerously shifted and he was soon back on the floor.

 _“Clint, hey… at me…”_ the fingers fell from his neck and went to turn his face back towards the sky again. Then, all of a sudden, Clint’s eyelids were being pried further open, and no matter how hard he tried to complain or pull away, they didn’t leave.

 _“...Still!”_ The Hand on his face suddenly tightened, forcing Clint’s head in place. Once he could barely move his head anymore, a penlight suddenly appeared in his view.

 _“...no…”_ the words were slurred and sluggish, even to Clint’s own ears. The ringing finally began to fade, just enough for his ears to pick up Bruce’s familiar voice above him.

“Stay still, Clint. I need to check your pupils.”

Clint could barely comply. When the light was actually shone down, he squirmed and fought the best he could, even with his weakened state.

When the light entered his eyes, it was blinding, but Clint couldn’t turn his head, no matter how much he wanted to.

The process seemed to last forever, even if it had only been a few seconds. When the penlight finally pulled away, Clint was left blinking rapidly and even more disoriented than before.

“His pupils are slightly dilated,” Bruce said to someone behind Clint’s line of view. “It might be from the fall, though… look, you need to get going! You’ve got work to do.”

About at the end of his rope, Clint grumbled something even _he_ didn’t understand under his breath and attempted to sit. However, he didn’t get but five inches off the ground before his vision began swimming.

“No, no—!” Right away, Bruce’s hands that had been recently hovering, pushed down on his chest, forcing him back to the ground. “You’re gonna stay right there, okay, Clint? You just passed out. I need to figure out what’s wrong before I let you sit. Widow, seriously. Go. I’ll keep you updated.”

Widow? Frowning distastefully, Clint shook his head, then groaned at the back of his throat. The sound of footsteps retreated from the two just as he began speaking. “I can go… t’s nothin’... jus’ tired…!”

It wasn’t a complete lie, he was pretty sure if he’d dropped, it was most likely from exhaustion or lack of sleep… or the illness and pain in his stomach he’d been neglecting to take care of.

“Clint, you’re burning up…!” Bruce exclaimed softly and emphasized his point by laying the back of his hand on Clint’s forehead. “What happened?”

“Jus’...” Clint swallowed back the bout of nausea and dizziness that washed over him. “Dizzy…”

“Try not to move too much. What hurts?”

Clint blinked again, attempting to clear his vision when it started to waved. “Everything…”

“Can you be more specific?”

Clint frowned, but thinking only made his head pound. So, he, instead, just shook his head slightly, eyelids beginning to droop. “...tired…”

 _“Clint.”_ Bruce said softly, then reached down to move Clint’s head back towards him after it rolled to the side. He tried several times, mostly unsuccessful, to meet Clint’s nearly unseeing eyes. “Clint, I need you to tell me what’s going on. I want to help you, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me anything.”

Clint shook his head slightly, forced his eyes back open when they slipped shut. The little amount of strength and adrenaline he had left flooding through him suddenly fizzled out and he fell limp. His vision was beginning to waver even as Bruce gave him a hard shake.

 _“Clint…”_ Bruce was pleading, “ _stay_ _awake…”_

Clint didn’t even get a chance to apologize before the darkness sucked him under once more.

For a short while, there was only darkness and, while at peace, Clint floated thoughtlessly. Nothing mattered, but most importantly, nothing _hurt._ He was free, he was happy, he felt nothing but complete and utter peace. With no problems or worries, he just… _existed._

His time of serenity was soon cut short, however, by the sight of a penetrating white light. It slammed into him, blinding him momentarily, and practically sucked the bliss out of him. The next thing he knew, Clint was being pulled back into consciousness, no matter how much he wanted to stay at rest.

Voices were chattering softly around him, someone was dabbing at his forehead with a damp cloth, he still felt sick… _but,_ not as sick as he had been feeling lately.

“Hey, I think he’s waking up…”

The feminine voice on Clint’s left made his eyes dart under his lids, which was soon followed by the scraping of a chair on tile and footsteps heading over.

“How do you know?” A different voice asked, this one male.

The woman scoffed in response and, judging by the tone, there might’ve been an eye roll added in there as well. “ _How do I know—?”_

“At ease, Soldiers. _”_ a soft voice cut in.

The cloth dabbing Clint’s forehead pulled away and the one who was most likely responsible for completing the task sighed. “Steve’s right. If he _is_ waking up, I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear you two bickering. Believe me, it’s loud _and_ annoying.”

A huff of air was released angrily, followed by the sound of someone sitting down, then the sound of a chair scraping closer. Clint felt a hand grab his, but he wasn’t afraid. He _knew_ that familiar touch…

“Clint…” the female voice started gently.

“It’s _Nat_ …”

_Natasha._

“Can you hear me?”

Clint didn’t feel up to responding, but the only effect of his silence was a groan.

“He’s been out for _three days,”_ another voice cut in. “Three _grueling_ days of total _lockdown_ and _constant_ pacing from _you_ three… Not to mention, _everyone_ is hovering. It’s like a _madhouse_ here in here! When’s he gonna wake up?”

 _“I don’t know,_ Tony,”

“Oh, don’t play so _coy,”_ Natasha deadpanned. “You’re worried, too. Don’t act like you aren’t…”

“Yeah, well, I’m a lot _calmer_ about it than _you_ two are,” Tony scoffed. “At least I _sleep.”_

“In between your brainstorming sessions you mean?” Bruce mumbled.

“Hey! I was trying to help, so _you’re_ _welcome_ for _slaving_ over something instead of _pacing_ around the room waiting for someone to hand me an answer!”

“We didn’t _do_ anything,” Bruce said, though his voice had lowered considerably. “ _Because_ it’s _not_ some weird _illness_ we’re dealing with, it’s a _stubborn_ , _headstrong_ _archer—!”_

At this point, Clint had heard enough. His head was already pounding, this bickering _wasn’t_ helping.

 _“Enough…!”_ He exclaimed and, though his voice was weak and quiet, it was enough to silence the room. Slowly, he peeled open his eyes and squinted up at the figures around him. “Stop… stop _arguin’…_ ‘re givin’ me a _headache…”_

Tony’s face swam into view first, Closely

followed by Natasha, Steve, and finally, Bruce, each one with a mixture of surprise and worry painted on it.

“Oh, _now_ he wakes up—!””

_“Hush.”_

“You had us worried,” Bruce cut in.

“What… what happened..?” Clint asked.

“You had a high fever, you’ve been out for a while, but we finally got it to break last night.” Bruce explained softly. “How are you feeling?”

“... _tired…”_ Clint admitted. “Still feel… _sick… drowsy…”_

“The fever’s not completely gone,” Bruce said. “But, you’re getting better now—you’re a lot better now than you were a few days ago.”

“What happened a few days ago?”

Natasha punctuated her presence with a sharp hit to the back of his head. He exclaimed quietly, but understanding. Deep down, he was 99% sure he’d done something to deserve that. At least she hit him _somewhat_ more gently thean usual… “That jog your memory, you idiot?”

“No…”

“You collapsed on the last mission,” Bruce explained. “You had a high fever when I checked on you… which probably couldn’t have gotten so bad if you stayed at the tower… why didn’t you tell us you didn’t feel well?”

Clint took a moment to pause in thought. “You look down on me _enough_ as is… I didn’t… didn’t want to drop out because of… _this…_ it was only _one time.”_

“Listen, you’re just as much apart of this team as anyone else is,” Bruce said. “No one’s going to think of you less because you got sick. _Everyone_ gets sick.”

Clint shot the man a disbelieving look. At

this, the scientist rolled his eyes. “You understand what I’m getting at, right? It’s _normal._ People take days off.”

“ _Superheroes_ don’t…”

“Clint—!”

“What’d you expect me to do?” Clint interrupted softly. “I… I can’t _… I can’t just sit back…!_ You guys… you’re all just… _better_ than me… Cap’s a _super soldier,_ Tony has the world’s largest brain _and_ a _super suit…_ Thor is a literal _god,_ you have a huge brain, too, and can change into a freaking beast at will, and Nat… she’s scary, man… you’re all just… _so_ much better than me…”

“Well, _you_ have the world’s greatest aim,” Tony said.

At this, Clint sighed and shook his head.

“But, you could also whip up a machine to do that _for_ you.”

“Yeah, but…” Tony sighed. “Look, the machine’s not as good as the real deal. I.. _much_ prefer the real deal.”

Clint clenched his teeth together, not really sure of what else he could say. They weren’t going to leave him alone if he kept this going… “I just… I just wanted to prove myself,” he admitted. “I’m sorry… I didn’t… I didn’t mean for it to go this far…”

The four hovering over him were silent and, when Clint caught each of their eyes hopefully, a bunch of mixtures of different emotions on each of their faces was all he could see.

Finally, Natasha spoke. “You never need to prove yourself to us,” she said. “You’re On this team for a reason, Clint. You’re one of a kind. Irreplaceable.”

Something deep inside Clint shifted at her words, and he was silent for a moment, taken aback. He cast a look around the room of his friends… his _family_ all here making sure he got better.

Finally, after a minute of silence, Clint nodded his head. “Thank you.”


End file.
